


With Lace On Your Skin

by Robin_tCJ



Series: Monsterverse [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Cap-IM Bingo, Established Relationship, Felching, Lace Panties, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Rimming, Rough Sex, Spanking, Stony Bingo 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: In this not-quite sequel to Monster, Steve has learned to be more comfortable with his dominant side, and Tony is ready to work up to some heavier kinks. He just hopes Steve is able to get on the same page.Spoiler: Steve is.This fic is dedicated to the lovelysappuppet, who earned this fic by bidding on me in the Stony Trumps Hate fandom auction. Sappuppet's donation of $70(!!!) to Earth Justice earned just over 7,000 words of spankity-spank smut.I hope this satisfies!And, finally, thanks toEvanna3994for the super fast beta!





	With Lace On Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sappuppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sappuppet/gifts).



It starts with a signal. A secret. A silent invitation that, tonight, Steve wants to play.

Tony has the option to decide whether he wants to play as well, of course – that’s the beauty of their arrangement. They don’t often get into the more taboo side of their sex life. More often than not, sex between them is spontaneous, natural, simple. Tab A, Slot B, everyone finishes happy.

But some nights, Steve likes to be In Charge. On those nights, he gives the signal.

He’s already up and gone for his morning run when Tony wakes. The alarm is soothing – it starts with tinkling piano music and works its way up louder and louder until it wakes him up gently.

He blinks his eyes open sleepily, and rolls onto his back to stretch. He’s pleasantly sore, he and Steve had gotten a little acrobatic the night before. Mostly Steve, really, with his knees bent up by his ears, gripping the headboard and crying out with each thrust of Tony’s cock into him, but Tony had done some bending and hard work himself, so his muscles have that pleasant ache to them that comes from a night of fantastic sex with a super soldier.

He rolls over, making his way toward the edge of their very, very large bed, and sits up with his feet hanging over the edge. He reaches for his phone on the night stand to see if he has any messages to deal with, to see what time it is, and catches sight of the signal.

A small, folded scrap of lace is set on his night stand. The delicate stitching and soft silk thread have a slight shine to them, even in the low light of the morning. He grins softly to himself as he reaches out, holding the lacy silk panties out in front of himself. They’re a soft slate grey – a colour Tony can’t help but notice matches the first collar Steve bought for him months ago, when they first started playing games with dominance, submission, and bondage.

They’ve learned a lot since the beginning. Steve had struggled a lot, at first, trying to figure out how to indulge his dominant side without turning into a bully. Tony had struggled, too – he’d played submission games before, and he’d always enjoyed being at the mercy of a lover, but he’d also always been reluctant to truly give himself over – to actually be submissive, rather than playing at it.

Steve had wanted it to be genuine, though, so they’d worked on it.

One of the lessons they’d learned was that Tony will do better at getting out of his own head and immersing himself in the experience if he has more time to get used to the idea. Building the anticipation of that surrender of control gives Tony more time to think about all the things Steve will do to him.

They don’t do any pain play or anything. Steve can’t bring himself to hurt Tony – even though, sometimes, Tony wants that. Not _real_ pain. He doesn’t want Steve to whip him bloody or anything. Just the light sting of of impact, maybe a nipple clamp. He’d take hot wax, even. He thinks, secretly, that Steve wants it, too. That he’d enjoy it, because _Tony_ would enjoy it. At least half of Steve’s kinks are about Tony getting off, and god knows that having Steve tie him down and drizzle hot wax across his chest and belly would get him off in a hurry.

But Steve’s not comfortable with it, at least not yet. So Tony had simply told him that, if he ever felt like playing with Tony that way, Tony would be more than amenable to it. He’d even given Steve a list of his favourite activities – even some he hasn’t tried yet but thinks he’d be into. “Just in case you ever want to try anything,” he’d told Steve. Steve had just blinked and blushed and shook his head.

But it’s fine. Tony can be patient. And if Steve never wants to try anything on the list, then that’s fine, too. He doesn’t _need_ pain play. He just likes it. The same way he doesn’t _need_ to be tied down for Steve to fuck, the same way Steve doesn’t _need_ to tie him down and fuck him. They just enjoy it.

So Tony doesn’t push. They really _do_ enjoy the play they engage in, so when he wakes up in the morning and finds the slate grey panties on his night stand, he knows that’s his signal.

He actually has a full day of meetings today – and he knows Steve knows that. Which means Steve had chosen today on purpose, had decided that making Tony wear the lacy underwear while meeting with the board of directors, while meeting with the R&D department, while meeting with _Pepper_ , was intentional.

Tony doesn’t _have_ to put them on. That’s part of the reason they’d decided on this particular invitation to play. If Steve wants to tie him down and order him around, he leaves a pair of panties for Tony to wear. If Tony wants to play, too, he wears the damned panties. If he doesn’t, he leaves them on the night stand where they are, and Steve will know it’s off the table. Not that Tony has done that too many times.

If Tony wants to play, he can signal his intent by taking out the slate grey collar – the one that matches these panties completely – and leaving it out on Steve’s night stand.

It’s an indirect approach, but they lead busy lives. It can be hard to sit down and talk about their sex life. It’s not as though they’re _scheduling_ sex. Though, Tony thinks with a grin as he makes his way to the bathroom to shower, if Steve felt like slipping a little afternoon delight into Tony’s schedule some day, he wouldn’t be bothered in the least.

Tony showers, shaves his face, sculpts his beard, and brushes his teeth. He wanders back into the bedroom nude, and takes the little scrap of lace off the nightstand.

It’s not a thong, thank god. He hates them. He likes how they _look_ , sure, and Steve _really_ likes how they look, but they aren’t the kind of panties he can wear all day. The chafing is just… eugh. He doesn’t understand how women can wear them all the time.

These are more of a Brazilian cut, straight across the front and back, moving into shorts territory – except for the delicate, looping lace that covers absolutely no skin whatsoever. The sides are laced up, a silk ribbon in matching grey looped through the rings attaching the front of the panties to the back.

His dick perks up a little in interest as he examines the lingerie. With a little grin to himself, he slips them on over his hips, tucking his half-hard cock to the side so it’s covered by lace. It’s soft fabric, not scratchy, so it just feels nice on his skin. He arranges the bows on the sides so they, hopefully, won’t ruin the lines of his suit. It should be okay, they’re soft ribbons.

He glances at himself in the mirror. Yeah, Steve’s going to ravish him. The lines of his obliques and hips are accentuated perfectly by the scalloped edging of the waistband of the panties. His balls and his dick, which is maybe a little more than half-hard now, are filling the front of the panties perfectly. The ribbons criss-crossing the sides leave X shapes of skin on display.

He grins, and then he pulls his suit pants over them. Yep, completely hidden. Except he knows they’re there, and he knows that Steve is going to be very, very impressed with them, and he knows he’s in for a hell of a night.

God, it’s going to be a long day.

 

++++

 

Tony spends the whole day half-hard, if he’s honest. The silky lace feels like nothing most of the time, except when he’s walking between offices and conference rooms – and then it feels like a gentle tease against sensitive skin, silky and titillating.

He doesn’t hear from Steve at all. It’s not unusual, though. Often, when Steve leaves him lingerie, he doesn’t contact Tony at all through the day, his way of keeping the anticipation at the forefront of Tony’s mind.

Tony gets back up to the penthouse just before dinner, and Steve is there, in the kitchen. He’s putting together a meal – salad, roasted chicken thighs, pesto green beans. Nothing strenuous, nothing terribly fancy, but healthy nonetheless.

Usually, they order in. They’re busy people, what with the whole Tony-owns-a-tech-conglomerate and also they’re-superheroes-who-save-the-world-sometimes thing, so they order in. It’s still usually healthy fare, and sometimes things they can keep in the freezer and put together in a hurry. But these days, the days where they’re playing dominance and submission games… Steve uses it as one more way to take care of Tony. These days are the ones where Tony comes up from work and Steve is putting together a home-cooked meal.

At first, it had bothered him a little. Steve is his partner, and Tony doesn’t need to be doted on. Steve isn’t a servant, and besides, when Steve is letting his dominant side out to play, shouldn’t Tony be the one making dinner? But after a while, he’d come to realize, that for Steve it was making sure Tony had a good, nutritious meal. That Steve uses it as a way to make sure Tony is eating properly before what will, likely, be a somewhat taxing evening.

And Steve’s not a bad cook, so Tony decided to stop letting it bother him.

He sidles up behind Steve, where he’s giving the salad one last toss, and wraps his arms around Steve’s trim waist. Tony cants his hips forward a little, just enough to let Steve feel that his cock is a little on the hard side.

“Hey, handsome,” Tony greets him, pressing a kiss at Steve’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Steve says, dropping his utensils and turning to wrap Tony in his arms. He gives Tony a warm smile and leans down to give him a gentle kiss. “How was your day?”

“Frustrating,” Tony says, forming his mouth into a little bit of a pout. “I had half a mind to find you at lunch and give you a blowjob.”

Steve chuckles a little. “What makes you think I would have let you?”

Tony licks his lips sensuously. “I would have asked real nice.”

Steve grins and pushes Tony toward the table. “Sit. Eat food. Then we can talk about you asking again.”

Tony sighs loudly, put-upon, and plops himself down into a chair. Steve brings the salad over, as well as a bottle of Malbec that had been breathing on the counter. He pours Tony half a glass, then some for himself, spooning some green beans onto Tony’s plate.

Tony rolls his eyes, and waits for Steve to finish dishing him up his dinner. Steve piles his own plate high with chicken and beans, and they eat while chatting about their respective days.

It’s simple, and domestic, and Tony never thought it would be something he enjoys so thoroughly.

He’s scraping up the last of his green beans when Steve very pointedly places his knife and fork down on the table on either side of his empty plate, the sound a faint but sharp click.

“Are you finished?” Steve asks, his voice a slightly lower register.

Tony’s breath catches in anticipation, swallows the last bite of his meal, and takes a sip from his wine glass, finishing the contents.

“Yes, I’m finished,” he says, folding his hands and resting them in his lap.

“Good,” Steve says. “We’ll clean up later. For now, I want to see how my gift fits.”

Tony takes a deep breath, feeling his cheeks flush slightly, before he stands up and starts to move toward the bedroom.

“No,” Steve says, voice like steel. “Strip right here in the kitchen. Fold your clothes and put them on your chair.”

Tony swallows, heart pounding, cock rapidly moving from ‘half-hard’ to full erection. He does as he’s told, though – that is, after all, the point of it all.

His suit pants and his tie hit the chair first, haphazardly folded. His socks go next, until he’s standing there in only his dress shirt and the panties. He unbuttons the shirt slowly, fingers dextrous. When he’s about to shrug it off his shoulders, Steve stops him, standing in front of him. “Leave the shirt for now,” he says, eyeing Tony’s body hungrily. Tony looks down, can’t help himself.

His hard cock is straining against the fabric of the lace panties, the head poking out the waistband. The shirt, a lighter grey than the panties, is open and framing his chest, his groin, his abs. He’s not as muscled as Steve, not nearly as well defined and, well, bulgey. But there are still abs, pecs, the whole lot, and Steve seems to like it, so…

As evidence, Steve lightly runs a finger down Tony’s chest and belly, until he almost reaches the head of Tony’s erection, and then he drops his hand and meets Tony’s eyes.

“Go get your collar on, and lie down on the bed. Face down.”

Tony swallows, his throat dry, and lets the surge of arousal pool in his belly. His eyes flutter a little and he sways forward, as though to press himself against Steve, before he takes a deliberate step back and then turns toward the bedroom. He wonders if his shirt is long enough to cover the panties while he walks; he knows Steve is watching his ass as he goes.

Tony goes straight to the armoire in the corner – the one they keep locked with retinal access because of all the, you know, sex toys, and opens it. The shelf at eye-level has their favourites, and right in the middle is the velvet red box containing the collar Steve had bought him.

It’s slate grey, and there’s a leash that matches it, but Steve hadn’t said anything about the leash. Steve is always quite specific with what he wants Tony to do – it gives him a thrill to have Tony obey his orders to the letter. God knows it’s not something Tony normally does when they’re out with the team trying to save the world.

He slips the collar around his neck and, by feel, buckles it up at the side. He slips the collar around so that the buckle is in the back, and then makes his way over to the bed.

Steve is leaning in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Tony do as he’s told. He looks as though he might be leaning against the side of a building watching people go in and out of a coffee shop, for all the relaxation in his posture, but Tony can feel Steve’s eyes tracking every movement.

Tony leaves his shirt on, still, and crawls up to the middle of the bed before he lays down on his stomach. He keeps his feet together, pillows his head on his stacked hands, and turns his face to the side to wait. As much as he can feel arousal surging through his veins, as much as the pressure of his own body weight and the bed itself are heaven and hell on his hard cock, he can also feel the sense of soothing calm that comes with submission.

Everything is quiet, except the sound of his own breathing. Steve moves across the room silently, so Tony doesn’t see him coming until he’s right there, crawling up on the bed, over Tony, and then straddling Tony’s hips. He’s still wearing his jeans, Tony can feel the rough denim scraping over the skin of his thighs, pressing against the soft lace of the panties.

“Good,” Steve murmurs, leaning forward and draping himself over Tony. Steve’s warm, solid chest against his back settles Tony even further, that feeling of safety and comfort and being surrounded by Steve. “Good boy.”

It gives Tony a little shiver, the praise. It’s early yet, but Steve has learned to push his buttons, and they both know the praise kink button is Steve’s favourite one to push.

Steve extends one arm, reaches toward the corner of the bed, and pulls up the soft doeskin wrist cuff of their under-bed restraints. Tony moans a little, because the under-bed restraints mean he’s not going anywhere for awhile, and that Steve’s going to indulge his preference for being completely at Steve’s mercy. For being a tool for Steve’s pleasure.

God, he’s one lucky son of a bitch.

Steve brings the doeskin cuff closer, and Tony puts his right hand out without being asked. Steve wraps his wrist with the cuff, pulling the nylon strap holding it tight, and then presses a kiss to Tony’s forearm before moving to the other side and pulling out the left cuff. He wraps it around Tony’s left wrist and kisses that forearm before he leans up and back, running his hands down Tony’s back, against the silk fabric of Tony’s shirt. He pushes at the material, pushing it up so it bunches around Tony’s shoulders, leaving his back bare.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Steve murmurs, leaning forward and pressing sucking kisses to Tony’s back, shimmying himself down Tony’s legs as he works. “Do you want a blindfold tonight?”

Tony shudders, hands clenching. “Whatever you want, Steve,” he says. “I can – if you want me to, I will.”

Steve hums thoughtfully as he slips off Tony’s legs, spreading them out on either side of his knees, and then runs his hands up from Tony’s ankles to his ass, caressing the soft lace there, the sensitive skin under it. Tony moans.

Steve sits up again, and pulls out the doeskin ankle restraints. He’s efficient with them, and soon Tony is spread-eagled on the bed, arms and legs held wide and immobile and helpless.

He can already feel precome sliding slickly against his belly where the head of his cock is poking up from the lace panties.

Steve slides his hands up the outsides of Tony’s thighs, and his fingers play idly with the bows tied up on the sides of the underwear, with the ribbon stretched across his hips holding the panties in place.

Steve moves off him, away from him, and stretches out beside him, propping his head up on his elbow so he and Tony are pretty much eye to eye.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” Steve asks, resting one hand on the small of Tony’s back and gently brushing at the skin there with his thumb. “What’s your colour?”

Tony rolls his eyes a little. “Green, Steve, jesus. We haven’t even started yet.”

Steve shrugs, his lips ticking up on one side in a wry smile. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Well, I’m super into this, whatever this is,” Tony says. “Don’t worry about me.”

Steve hums thoughtfully again, and then, of all things, he blushes a little. Tony’s interest piques instantly – sure, they’d both been a little shy and awkward the first few times they’d done this, but they’d been doing it long enough by now that neither of them were embarrassed by the power games they’d been playing in bed.

But Steve is _blushing_.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Tony asks him, raising his head a little. With it, he can feel himself, his consciousness, raising a little bit from the soft, floating headspace he’d started to fall into, but he doesn’t mind. If Steve is blushing, chances are things are about to get much more interesting, and he’ll find himself headed back in that direction in no time. Besides, even if that weren’t the case, if _Steve_ isn’t entirely comfortable with the state of things, then neither is Tony.

“So I was, um, looking at your list,” he finally says after a long pause. “The list of, you know, things you wanted to try?”

Tony feels a grin slowly creep across his face, and his cock throbs a little. “Yeah?”

Steve ducks his head a little, his face still flushed. “And I guess, I mean, I wanted to ask if you still… want that? The things on the list?”

Tony wipes the smile off his face and looks at Steve seriously. “Only if you want them, honey,” he says. “You know I don’t want to push you into anything. That list? I can live without it. That list is just to let you know what I’d be happy to do with you, if you wanted to do it with me. It’s not a have-to. It’s not even really a request. Just for informational purposes.”

Steve rolls his eyes a little, but it’s enough to break the tension in his body, and his shoulders relax a little. “So if I wanted to try something on the list, you’d be okay with that.”

“Fuck yes,” Tony says. “Steve, I would be so, so okay with that.”

“And if I try it and don’t like it?”

“Then we stop doing that, and we do something you _do_ like.”

“But you want them. It. The list. You want the things on it.”

“I do,” Tony says. “But not if you don’t. I feel like we’ve had this discussion before, Steve. When we first started doing the bondage thing, we talked about this for a long time.”

“Yeah, we did,” Steve says, giving Tony a little smile.

“Of course, _that_ time you hadn’t already tied me spread eagle to the bed wearing lace panties, hard as a rock and desperate for you to fuck me,” Tony says pointedly.

Steve blushes again, but this time it’s not uncomfortable. “Well, you’re just so pretty in them,” he says, and he reaches out and slaps Tony’s ass a little to punctuate the point.

Tony can’t help it, he moans. He’s hard and hot and horny, and he’s wearing lace panties and tied down to their bed, and the firm smack of Steve’s big, broad palm on his ass is just on the right side of painful.

Steve’s eyes get a little darker, and he raises his hand, bringing it down again with a loud smack. This one, this impact, is completely intentional. There’s no mistaking the question in it, no mistaking the intent.

“Oh god really?” Tony gasps, wriggling his hips to try and get friction on his cock. “Spanking? The one you want to try is spanking? Oh, fuck, I was a really, really good boy in a previous life and I am being _rewarded_.”

“Quiet,” Steve says, pushing himself up onto his knees, rubbing his hand down Tony’s back and then spanking him again. This time the blow hits the bottom curve of Tony’s ass, half off the fabric of the panties, and the sound of it is sharper, even as Steve’s hand glances up a little. Tony shivers, but he does as he’s bid and doesn’t say anything, just lets out a sharp gasp.

“That’s nice,” Steve says, his voice low. “The way your rear jiggles like that when I spank it. You’ve always had such a nice bottom. Curves just right.” To punctuate the point, Steve runs his hand down the roundness of it before delivering three sharp smacks in quick succession.

When he’d fantasized about this, when he’d let himself imagine Steve spanking him, it had been different. In his fantasies, Steve would pretend to be angry at him, would pull Tony over his knee, and spank him as punishment. Would give him 10 sharp smacks and then they would move on, and Tony would love it.

This is different. This doesn’t feel like it’s meant to be a punishment, and Steve isn’t pretending anything. He’s bringing his heavy hand down on Tony’s ass, the backs of his thighs, intentionally. Honestly. It’s not a punishment – it’s a reward.

Tony moans with the next smack, and then Steve stops, pulls away.

“No!” Tony moans, not sure what he’s protesting. Steve stopping, or Steve pulling away? His ass is hot, the skin tender and sharp and stinging, but his cock is as hard as he can ever remember it being, and he feels light headed and floating on adrenaline.

“Shh, Tony, not going anywhere,” Steve says, and Tony can hear the rustle of a T-shirt being lifted off, the zip and clatter of Steve unzipping his jeans and shoving them down. In moments he’s back, naked and hard, and Tony wants to suck him off, but then Steve spanks him again, and Tony doesn’t want anything, anything but this.

_Smack_

God, it feels amazing. His skin is humming, he can feel a wet spot under the head of his dick on the bed.

_Smack_

Steve’s rhythm is unflappable, just a steady rain of blows one after another, warm and swift and not hard, no, just enough to warm the skin and make it sing.

_Smack_

Steve shifts, moves, still spanking Tony but then he leans over and, oh god, he bites Tony, right where his ass meets his thigh, the skin red and hot and tender and sensitive, and Steve gives it a little nip, just a scrap of teeth, then soothes it with his tongue and Tony almost comes right there. The different sensation, the sudden sharp bite and hot, wet, licking tongue are foreign compared to the sharp smacking of Steve’s hand on his ass, and Tony shivers, his whole body tight as a bow string.

Steve’s hand comes down harder, faster, and Tony cries out, he can’t help it.

“Colour?” Steve asks, pausing in his rhythm. Suddenly the whole room is still and silent except for Tony’s ragged breathing.

“Green,” he croaks, his throat dry and hoarse and uncooperative. “Fuck, Steve, it feels so –”

He’s cut off by another sharp slap, and he can’t help but writhe against the restraints holding his arms and legs immobile.

Then Steve is moving swiftly, almost too fast to track, and kneeling in between Tony’s spread legs. He’s still spanking Tony, on the outsides of his cheeks, near his hips, and then he leans in and Tony can feel hot, panting puffs of breath against his skin, his sensitive crack, through the lace of the panties. He whines, and then Steve is mouthing at his flesh under the lace, tongue flicking out and under the fabric, dragging across the silk, wet on his skin. Steve stops spanking for a moment, using his fingers to pull the crotch of the panties to the side, baring Tony to him, and then his mouth, his lips and tongue, are working at Tony’s hole. It’s not gentle, but it’s not rough, either.

If Tony could think of words right now, he might call it ‘voracious,’ but as it stands, the only thoughts in his mind translate to ‘guh’ and ‘more.’ He can feel his ass cheeks, the crack between them, getting wet and slick with saliva, and the way the skin cools because of it. He’s squirming, he can’t help it, and Steve moans as he licks into Tony’s body, making the soft lace scrape against tender flesh.

Steve’s big hands take the globes of his ass and spread them apart, opening Tony up more, and his thumb pulls at the hem of the panties, pulling them to the side to give himself better access to Tony’s hole.

As soon as it’s bare, Steve is on it, mouth and lips and tongue gliding and kissing and licking insistently. Tony cries out, his body jerking as he tries to get away from the intimate, overwhelming touch, and at the same time trying to get closer to the wild pleasure of it.

Steve’s tongue is inside him, pressing and spearing and licking, and Tony’s mindless with it. His eyes are squeezed shut, so all he has for sensory input is the sensation of Steve’s mouth and hands, the feeling of the soft lace of the panties he’s still wearing, and the sound of Steve’s ragged breathing and hungry licking.

Just when Tony thinks he can’t take any more of it, just when he thinks he’s either going to somehow come without any stimulation to his cock or pass out from the strain of wanting to come, Steve pulls back. He’s up on his knees behind Tony, kneading and pushing at the muscles of his ass, breathing hard. Tony cries out at the loss of contact, at the way the thigh opening of his panties snaps across his hole when Steve lets it go.

Steve’s hands wrap around Tony’s hips, giving him a brief squeeze with spread fingers, and then he’s working at the bows of the panties on the sides, untying them and unlooping the criss-crossing ribbons like a corset. He does it slowly, one loop at a time, pressing kisses and bites at the skin of Tony’s thighs as he works. Tony’s body trembles with anticipation, with need, as Steve slowly, slowly unfastens the ribbons and then peels the back of the panties down, baring him completely to Steve’s gaze.

Steve’s reverently caressing Tony’s thighs, his back, his ass, making soothing sounds as he pets at Tony’s skin to bring him back from the brink.

Tony takes a few deep breaths, sucking air into his lungs as he tries to relax, tries to regain his composure.

He feels it start to settle in. His breath is longer, steadier. His heart is still beating hard in his chest, but it’s slower, the rhythm less erratic. His skin prickles lightly in the cool air of the room.

Tony’s floating on it, the sensation of sinking into the mattress, of Steve’s gentle hands on his body.

And then, without warning, Steve delivers another five sharp, fast blows to Tony’s ass, palm flat and hard and sudden in the silence of the room. The spanking is harder than before, and his skin is still tender from the earlier treatment, and he cries out on the second impact, his yell lasting until the last. He sobs in a breath, his head dizzy with pleasure-pain.

“God, you turn such a pretty colour,” Steve says, voice husky. “Your skin gets this dark red, wine colour to it.” He lifts his hand and spanks again, this time on the opposite cheek. “What’s your colour?”

Tony’s confused for a moment – Steve had just said he was red, of course he’s red, like wine, but no, that’s not the question. The question is meant to find out how Tony’s doing. If he’s still enjoying this. If he’s still consenting.

“G-green,” he manages to get out between clenched teeth. “Fuck, Steve, I never thought you’d – fuck.”

Then Steve is spanking him again, hand coming down hard and sharp and fast and it hurts, of course it hurts because Steve is a super soldier, Steve can lift a _car_ , he can hurl a vibranium shield around a room at top speed and have it keep its momentum until it ricochets back to him, so of _course_ he spanks hard. So it hurts, yeah, but it doesn’t _hurt_. The sharp pleasure-pain tingle in his skin is like electricity, like a live wire that shoots out sparks every time Steve’s broad, heavy hand makes contact with his flesh.

He’s arching into it, canting his hips up toward Steve’s hand, then in the next moment jerking away, arching his back to try and get some relief, then back to seeking out the impact again. Tony’s lightheaded, panting and moaning and feeling tears in his eyes as Steve spanks him, over and over and over again.

Steve’s hand is speeding up, blows coming more rapidly, the springing sharp sound of palm on buttock ringing in the room. It’s a rhythmic beat under Tony’s cries, under the sound of Steve’s ragged breathing – the only indication that Steve might be losing the last shred of his own control.

Steve’s hand moves down, to the back of Tony’s thighs, stinging slaps ringing in the room. His ass tingles, throbs as his heart struggles to pump healing blood and oxygen to his lower body. Then, the pop of a cap and a groan from Steve, and then cool, slick lube is being poured over him, messy and wild, dripping down the crease of his ass to slick over his hole, drip down to his balls and onto the bed sheets. Steve’s hand and rhythm don’t falter. He keeps spanking through it, even as he pours cool lube between Tony’s cheeks.

The coolness of it is soothing on his abused flesh, and the slick wetness over his hole makes his cock throb with need.

A flurry of motion behind him that Tony is barely aware of, and then Steve’s hands are pulling his cheeks apart, baring and exposing him, and then the head of his dick – hard as steel and hot as fire – is pushing in, stretching Tony open with no preamble. It burns, fuck, it burns, but it’s just one more layer of pleasure on top of everything else, and Steve is moving slowly, carefully, but it’s still a stretch, still so intense that Tony can’t help but sob out a breath.

“Fuck, I can’t – I should wait, I know, I should go easier, but, God, Tony, what you do to me when you’re like this,” Steve murmurs, still pressing his hips forward, still pushing his cock in. It opens Tony’s body up, carving out a space in him, a space that is tight and hot and perfect for Steve, _made_ for Steve.

“Fuck me,” Tony groans. “Fucking fuck me.”

A low, throaty chuckle in his ear as Steve leans over him, still sliding in, sliding forward, until he’s all the way inside, hips and pubic hair and thighs hot like a brand on Tony’s tender skin. Tony makes a hot, shocked sound at the contact, at the way he can almost feel every skin cell of Steve touching him, at the way his flesh is so, so sensitive, and then Steve is moving in him. Slowly, but deeply, with an edge of desperation to it that Tony can’t ignore.

Steve doesn’t last long. His thrusts grow sharper, he adds a snap at the end that batters at Tony’s prostate, but it’s not enough – it’s never enough, he can’t come like this, he needs something, a hand or a mouth or a hole around his cock to make him come, but Steve is just – just fucking him, using his body for his own pleasure, thrusting harder and faster and not paying any mind to the way the wiry curls around his cock are scraping at Tony’s tender, hot skin, to the way his balls are slapping with each push against Tony’s. Tony’s gasping for air, his cock hard and dripping precome because Steve’s just _using_ him, just _fucking_ him, getting himself off and not worrying about Tony, not concerned with Tony’s orgasm at all because, god, it’s not _about_ Tony, it’s about _Steve_ , and what _Steve_ wants, and Tony can give him that. Tony can give him that perfect, wonderful moment of selfishness, of working toward a goal for himself, of not having to think about anyone or anything else but his own pleasure.

“Good,” Steve grunts, hips snapping hard and fast now, “Good, you’re so good for me,” and Tony wails, struggling to free his hands, his legs, writhing on the bed because he wants to jerk off, wants to come, wants to be fucked and fucked and fucked forever.

Then Steve thrusts in deep, grinding his hips against Tony hard, and Tony can feel Steve’s balls twitching and trembling against his own as Steve comes, can feel his channel getting slicker and hotter and wetter with it, and Steve is crying out in pleasure, and Tony feels his whole body light up because _he did that_. He gave that to Steve.

Steve drapes himself over Tony’s body, panting and slick with sweat, and lies there for long moments while he tries to catch his breath. Tony is whimpering, jerking at his wrist restraints, trying to get at least one hand free so he can shove it between himself and the mattress and fuck into his own fist. He knows it would only take a couple pulls at this point, he could be coming in mere seconds, if he could just get a hand around himself. The pressure of the bed isn’t enough, or he’d just writhe and grind his hips until he went over the edge.

When Steve’s breath starts to settle, when Tony’s whole body is thrumming with need but, at the same time, floating in that calm, purposeless way that subspace gives him, Steve begins to slide down Tony’s body, pressing wet, tender kisses over every inch of his back as he goes.

“I love you,” he murmurs between kisses. “You’re so perfect, honey.”

“Steve,” Tony whines, breathless. “God, Steve.”

Steve keeps sliding down his body, kissing and kissing, and then he’s behind Tony again, and Tony wonders, is he going to fuck him again? Is he – could he do it again that quickly, just slide right into him and – fuck – just take him?

And Steve is pulling his cheeks apart again and, god, he is, he really –

But it’s not the blunt, hard head of Steve’s cock that starts playing at the rim of his entrance. It’s Steve’s tongue and lips and, just barely, his teeth, kissing and licking and sliding over tender, red skin. Tony moans, his whole face going hot because he knows he must be leaking, that Steve’s come must be dripping out of his hole, and Steve is down there tasting it, tasting _himself_ on Tony, _in_ Tony, and it’s awful and hot and humiliating and sexy.

“Just let me,” Steve murmurs, and it’s said gently, kindly, sweetly, but it’s still an order, Tony _needs_ it to be an order because then he has to follow it, and he _wants_ to follow it, he wants Steve’s tongue and lips there, kissing him and licking into him and cleaning him up, but he knows he shouldn’t, that he should find it – find it repulsive. But he doesn’t. God, no, Steve’s tongue is soothing and gentle and hot and wet, and Tony is nearly vibrating with the need to come.

He’s floating, barely aware of anything but Steve’s mouth on him, but there’s a clink and a clatter and then his right ankle is free, and Steve is reaching up to his right wrist, and his tongue doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop, still sucking and licking his come out of Tony’s hole, and then Tony’s right wrist is free and Steve is pushing at him, rolling him, over onto his back with his legs spread wide.

Tony whines, delirious with need, and then Steve’s mouth is on his cock, hot and wet and tight, bobbing and sucking and his tongue flicking over Tony’s frenulum, one of those broad, hot hands that had already done so much for him cupping his balls and kneading them, caressing them.

He comes embarrassingly quickly, spilling over Steve’s tongue with a cry, his whole body bowing with the force of it. Steve rides it out, moves with him as he writhes, hips stuttering.

And when the white hot blankness behind Tony’s eyes finally fades, when the rush of blood in his ears is no longer drowning out all other sound, Steve is still sucking at him, gentle and sweet and slow. His dick is sensitive, but Steve is being careful, just a soft, wet mouth and tongue soothing the shivery, wrung out feeling in Tony’s entire body.

Slowly, Steve pulls away, swallowing roughly – and, god, that never stops being hot – and petting at Tony’s hips, pressing gentle pecking kisses over his hips and belly and thighs. Tony breathes in great gulps of air, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead as he comes down from it, his body relaxing inch by inch into the soft, messy bed.

Steve reaches down and unbuckles the restraint around Tony’s left ankle, then kisses his way up Tony’s body to release his left wrist.

“How you doing, honey?” he asks, nuzzling into Tony’s neck. Tony can still feel his own pulse beating through his veins, pounding with the exertion.

“G-good,” he manages breathlessly. “Fuck, Steve, that was – you’re amazing.”

“It was good?”

And there it is, the slight hesitation, the awkwardness and self-consciousness that Steve sometimes gets when they do something he’s never done before.

And Tony had known, of course, that Steve would feel that way about spanking. That Steve had been unsure that he’d even wanted to try it, and that he’d need reassurance now. Even though Tony had basically had his brains fucked out, even though his orgasm had very nearly knocked him unconscious, even though he’s lying spent and limp and sloppy in their bed, Steve would need to be reminded that it was good, that Tony had wanted it, and that Steve had done it right.

“God, Steve, it was so good,” he says, meeting Steve’s gaze and holding it. “Really, I’m still, still a little under, but god, I need you to do that, just, all the time. I’m gonna resign, we’re gonna quit the Avengers, and you’re just gonna spank me every day for the rest of our lives.”

By the time he finishes speaking, Steve is shaking with laughter, snuffling into his neck.

“No, babe, I’m serious, the rest of the world can burn, I don’t give a damn, I just need you to tie me down and spank me forever and ever.”

“Tony…”

“I will misbehave on missions if I have to, and then you’ll _have_ to spank me,” Tony says, lips twitching into a grin.

Steve is laughing when he leans up and stretches to kiss Tony, chaste and soft and gentle. “Shaddup,” he says, pulling away.

“Or what, you’ll spank me?”

And then they’re both laughing.

  


END


End file.
